


Spring, Smoke and Sirius

by byebyebluejay



Series: Seasons with Sirius Black [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders' Era, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 12:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: The Marauders are nearing graduation, which is making Remus in particular feel ill at ease. The day after a full moon, Sirius comes to visit Remus in the hospital wing to cuddle and smoke weed.





	Spring, Smoke and Sirius

**Author's Note:**

> Podfic available here: [ The Star and Moon: Wolfstar Podcast - The Star and Moon: Seasons with Sirius Black (Spring, Smoke and Sirius) ](http://shoutengine.com/TheStarandMoonWolfstarPodcast/the-star-and-moon-seasons-with-sirius-black-spring-42238)

Normally, Remus looked forward to the springtime. Something about the winter’s chill and damp made transformations that much more difficult. It would sometimes take a few days for him to be able to stand and walk without wincing. The weather had warmed, though. It was only lunchtime the day after the full moon, and he was considering trying to convince Madam Pomfrey to let him go down to the great hall for dinner. It was probably a lost cause: she rarely let him go before spending a full night in the hospital wing, but it was worth a shot. He had fresh ammunition to use in his defense, though it was the same fact that was making him dread the return of spring: in just a couple months, he and the rest of the Marauders would be graduating into a war. Leaving their childhoods, their safe haven. No one outside of Hogwarts would make the accommodations for him that Madam Pomfrey would. He would have to get used to fending for himself. 

For Remus, it also meant a separation from the only people who made his monthly transitions bearable, and the start of what he was sure would be a largely fruitless job hunt. No one cared if you had been a prefect, or how many N.E.W.T.s you had gotten top marks in when you were a werewolf. Balance of probability was he was going to have to find a muggle job that didn’t require any sort of muggle degree. Remus didn’t want to ask the Potters for money… He was probably going to have to ask the Potters for money. It made him vaguely nauseous to think about, but with no distractions it was difficult not to fixate on it. Sirius, as he did more and more often these days, saved him. 

“—I promise. I just wanted to give him these notes, and to keep him company for a little while. I’m not sneaking James and Peter in under my robes. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be as quiet as a pickled mouse. He needs me, Madam Pomfrey, please. And… erm… I’ve got some important stuff to tell him. I just… I know now’s not the best time, but it’s…” He was really laying it on thick. Remus couldn’t see beyond the privacy curtains, but as two sets of footsteps drew closer, it was impossible not to picture the way Sirius was surely running his fingers through his hair, or pulling at whatever braid Lily had given him this time, tilting his head down to look up at Madam Pomfrey through his lashes, though he was several inches taller than her. Sticking out his lower lip just a little. _Puppy eyes._

“Oh, alright, Black. You have an hour. But he needs rest, proper rest, after that. And if I find any reason to believe that you—“ 

“I would never! I shan’t muss a single curl on Remus’s precious head.” Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius could not be expected to uphold that promise for too long. Madam Pomfrey seemed to be thinking along very similar lines. 

“If you say so,” She said at last, and Remus listened as the footsteps diverged: Madam Pomfrey’s hard-soled shoes clicking on the ground as she started back towards her office, Sirius’s softer shuffle getting closer. Mere seconds later, the curtain was pushed away and Sirius was standing just a couple feet away. If full moons drained Remus, they seemed to replenish Sirius. He looked as handsome and light spirited as ever, beaming and running his hand back through his waves of thick, black hair.

“Wotcha Moony,” Sirius said and, showing some restraint at least, lifted himself cautiously onto the edge of the hospital bed instead of bouncing, “How are you feeling?” Remus shrugged.

“I’ve been worse. But I’ve been better too.” Sirius chuckled.

“You look okay. A little peaky, maybe, but okay,” He said, and reached out two fingers—the nails painted gold and magenta today—and stroked Remus’s cheek, feather-light. Remus closed his eyes and Sirius repeated the touch, before moving on to Remus’s forehead, his temples, his jaw, his nose, ever so delicate touches to his eyelids. Little brushes of warm fingers all over his face. Sirius’s fingertips were softer than usual, too. He and Mary Macdonald must have gone all out on the manicures. Remus could appreciate that. The little ritual between Sirius and himself was always soothing, but it was that much nicer when Sirius’s fingers were freshly exfoliated and moisturized, instead of rough with calluses and not particularly well tended to, as they were most of the time. Not that Remus would generally care or notice, except in these first days after the full moon, when the whole world felt sharp and grating—too much on already frayed nerves. 

“Where are James and Peter?” He asked after a few minutes, not opening his eyes. Sirius’s fingers stilled anyway. 

“Err… Honeydukes, I think. Buying you chocolate. Figured we didn’t all need to go to Hogsmeade, and someone ought to visit you ASAP. And you know how Wormy’s still obsessed with James even though he’s had six years to get over it. And I just figured I’d have an easier time getting Madam Pomfrey to let me in on my own than Prongs and Wormtail would together. I think she’s a bit fond of me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Remus said, smirking. 

“It’s either my eyes, my hair, my smile, my general _comportement_ , my sense of humor, my—“

“Alright! Alright, Pads. Stop it. You’re starting to sound like Prongs.” Sirius threw his head back and laughed, and Remus screwed his eyes tighter shut, “Padfoot, please.” Sirius fell quiet at once.

“Sorry, Moony. I forgot.”

“It’s alright.”

“Speaking of symptom management, do you want to study a bit of herbology with me? Get in some… practical experience?” When Remus opened his eyes, Sirius waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. 

“God, Sirius. Do you always have to use that euphemism?” 

Sirius pouted. “It’s more fun than saying ‘do you want to smoke pot with me, Moony’.” 

“Fair enough,” Remus agreed a little reluctantly, and Sirius grinned. 

“So? What do you say?”

“We can’t. Not here.”

“Madam Pomfrey’s not watching us, though. We’ve got an hour. We can do whatever we like.” Sirius said. Remus sighed, dragging his fingers back through his hair.

“She’ll smell it when she comes back, Sirius.”

“Ah, ah, ah. But that’s where you’re wrong, Moony,” Sirius was grinning his sharpest grin. The one he only wore when he had either a very good or a very bad idea, “I’ve been working on something. Look.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a pack of rolling papers, already opened, extending them out to Remus. “Charmed with a variation of the bubble-producing spell. Perfect for situations where discretion is of the utmost importance.” 

“So when you exhale the smoke,” Remus said, watching Sirius’s gleeful face, “It comes out as bubbles?” He was halfway between laughing at just how ridiculous Sirius was and being impressed at the ingenuity. 

“Yeah. Bubbles which can easily be disposed of by a simple vanishing spell. No smell, no smoke, no evidence. I think we can get a lot of use out of these.” Sirius said, and grinned, “So, what do you say, Moony?”

“Yeah, alright,” Remus agreed at last, offering Sirius a small smile. Smoking smoothed out the edges of the world and made everything softer and muffled, somehow. More pleasant, more bearable. It made the ache in his bones ease, and made him feel more like himself. 

Sirius wasted no time in rolling a joint for them, and Remus, eyes half-closed, watched as Sirius licked the paper and sealed the blunt, before lighting it silently with a touch of his wand. As with most things, Sirius performed the simple task in a way which seemed artful to Remus, as though it would be a disservice not to pay attention. Then, Sirius raised the joint to his lips, made eye contact with Remus, took a drag, and—

A bubble the size of a crystal ball filled with swirling white smoke and was blown from Sirius’s lips, drifting away towards the privacy curtains. “Evanesco,” Sirius whispered, and the bubble vanished without a trace. 

“Beautiful,” Remus said, looking back towards Sirius, “Very clever, Padfoot.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, extending the joint to him. Remus accepted it and took a drag and exhaled. It wasn’t like blowing a bubble with chewing gum. It took no effort; no manipulation. The bubble formed spontaneously, swelling with smoke before drifting away, and Sirius vanished that one too. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah. It really is. How long have you been working on this, Pads?”

“Oh, a month, maybe. But not very hard. Just when the urge struck and I felt like smoking, you know. Had to test them a lot. Give it here?” Sirius asked, extending out his hand for it again, “I’ve been practicing. I can do a trick.” Sirius brought the blunt to his lips and inhaled. When he breathed out, the bubble formed as it had before, and the smoke swirled inside it, but with a flick of Sirius’s wand, as the smoke consolidated into a gray fish that looked almost solid, swimming in dreamy circles around and around inside it, as though in a fishbowl. Fragile and perfectly formed.

“Gorgeous,” Remus murmured even as Sirius handed the joint back to him and slowly sank onto the bed beside Remus with a dreamy sigh. 

“Thank you, Moony. I’m glad you appreciate the artistry.” The smoke goldfish inside its bubble was bumping against the privacy curtains before Sirius flicked his wand at it and it vanished. Remus took another few drags before extinguishing the blunt with his own wand and relaxing back beside Sirius. It came on slowly—the feeling that something sweet and thick as icing was being applied to the world. The ache in his legs and back started to dull, then fade into near nothingness. His brain was moving slower, but time seemed to be moving slower too, so he could keep up. Beside him, he could feel every breath Sirius took moving through himself too, as though they were suddenly linked. It was very pleasant. 

“Do you think you could do other animals?” Remus asked, the back of his hand nudging against Sirius’s. His own hand was pale and slashed by an ugly scar, but Sirius’s skin was tan and intact and so, so soft. He turned his hand to stroke Sirius’s knuckles, and down the length of his fingers. Sirius shivered, then laughed, quietly enough that it didn’t twinge Remus’s head in the slightest. And what a charming laugh. Who could blame Madam Pomfrey if Sirius managed to win her over?

“Maybe. I could maybe do a bird,” Sirius mused, “Did you want something?” 

“I don’t know. Just… you could have a menagerie of them. Smoke animals in bubbles. Like an art exhibition.”

“An art exhibition?” Sirius’s face was full of gentle confusion.

“Yeah… Muggles have them. Places where they put art to show off.”

“Why haven’t we got those?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know any wizard artists. Maybe there aren’t enough.”

“I know one. Her name is Christa. Christiana. Chris… something. She does tattoos. Really beautiful ones. ” 

“Maybe you and her could do one. Smoke and tattoo sketches…” 

Sirius snorted. “Mine’s not art, Remy.” 

“It was so beautiful.” 

“Just transfiguration.” Sirius turned onto his side, and the movement rippled through Remus again as though he were made of water. Gingerly, he turned onto his side too, to face Sirius, who was watching him with such warmth in his grey eyes that Remus couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him. Their lips brushed together, the angle awkward given their positioning and the fact that Remus couldn’t bear to hold himself up off the pillows, but like his hands, Sirius’s lips were wonderful to touch, and the gentle trace of Sirius’s tongue against his bottom lip was enough to make him want to melt into the kiss and stay there forever. Sirius didn’t seem to want to pull back either. He drew himself in closer to Remus and put a hand on his waist—just barely touching—and when they did break, Sirius nosed into Remus’s neck, breathing him in. He must have just shaved that morning: there was no rasp of stubble against Remus’s skin. “Mmm… Moony, have I told you that you smell so good? So, so good?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Remus said, with a slow smile. His lips were tingling, and now his neck was tingling too, wherever Sirius’s warm breath brushed his skin. 

“Well. I want to mention it again. I want you to know. Oh! Oh, Moony. I have a good idea. A really good idea.”

“What is it, Pads?”

“We should… wait. I just had it. We should… Never mind.”

“What? What is it?” 

“Nothing,” Sirius said, kissing Remus’s neck, “I forgot, that’s all.”

“You’re high.”

“You’re high,” Sirius shot back, and Remus giggled, kissing Sirius’s silky hair. It smelled like rum cake, rain, and outdoor air. Sirius went very still. “Moony,” He asked after a few moments, “Would it hurt you if I held you a little closer?”

“Not if you’re gentle. Not if you move closer, instead of trying to pull me.” 

Sirius hummed in agreement and nudged closer, so they were touching chest to chest, belly to belly. Remus could feel Sirius’s heart beating and every breath he took. As they both fell still and silent again, Remus could feel both thrumming through him, feel his own heart and breath attune themselves to the calming rhythm of Sirius’s, and Remus relaxed, letting his eyes slip closed against the sun of the hospital wing. 

Sirius kissed his neck again, and then, in a whisper, began to sing, “Sleep, Moony, sleep. Your Padfoot’s yours to keep. Your Prongsy sneaks right off the grounds to buy you chocolate out in town. Sleep, Moony, sleep.” And Remus chuckled, but the comfort of being in Sirius’s arms with the world swathed in cotton, feeling warm and safe and far, far away from graduation was weighing heavily on him, and he did fall asleep, his face in Sirius’s hair. And, if Madam Pomfrey checked in on them after an hour, she didn’t disturb them, because the sun was setting when Remus roused himself and found Sirius still in his arms, and they both snuck down towards the great hall for dinner.


End file.
